


9-1-1...THAT'S your emergency?

by cablesscutie



Series: Ridiculous Sentence Drabbles [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Disgruntled Jogger Bucky, Firefighter Steve, M/M, that damn cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:59:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3801136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“New York City Fire Department, how may I help you?”<br/>“Hi, um...It’s uh...not an emergency per se, but there’s this cat in a tree in Prospect Park.”<br/>“Sir, if this is a prank call -”<br/>“No!  No, I’m serious."</p><p>Bucky is mugged by a cat.  Steve comes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	9-1-1...THAT'S your emergency?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post (http://toxixpumpkin.tumblr.com/post/108022477839/ridiculous-sentence-prompts)

“Quick catch that cat; it stole my wallet!” Bucky was well aware what a pathetic sight he made: panting and sweaty from his run, strands of hair escaped from his ponytail and sticking to his face, chasing after the goddamn alley cat that had just robbed him. He was also too pathetically exhausted to care. All he wanted to do was buy a water from the hot dog cart, hop on the subway, and get back to his apartment to waste away the rest of his Sunday, but _no_ , that was just too much to ask of the universe.

He was pretty sure even the pigeons were mocking him at this point, tilting their stupid little bird heads in his direction as if to point out to all their friends, “Hey, get a load of this jackass.” Finally, it seemed like he was gaining on the cat, and he poured on the last bit of speed he could muster…

Only to have the cat scramble up the trunk of the nearest tree and make for the highest, weakest branch it could fit on. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck,” he repeated, louder and accompanied by a frustrated kick at the tree. “Stupid fucking cat.” Bucky stared up at the tree, weighing his options. There was no way he was getting the thing down. The branches were way too weak for someone his size to climb more than a couple steps up, and he was bone tired anyway. There was even less of a chance of him walking away, though. Even if he was willing to cancel all his credit cards and sit through a torturous afternoon at the DMV to get a new license, whoever ended up with his wallet would still have his name, photo, and address. All that left him with only one foreseeable solution.

“New York City Fire Department, how may I help you?” the receptionist asked, crisp and professional.

“Hi, um...It’s uh...not an emergency per se, but there’s this cat in a tree in Prospect Park.” The woman on the other end of the line heaved an annoyed sigh, as if such calls were painfully common.

“Sir, if this is a prank call -”

“No!” He interrupted, worried that she’d hang up on him. “No, I’m serious. Some dumb alley cat grabbed my wallet and ran up a tree, and it’s too high up for me to climb.”

“A cat stole your wallet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky winced a little. She didn’t sound old enough to be called “ma’am” but it’d slipped out before he could stop it so he just prayed that she took it with the respect it was intended. Blessedly, she didn’t have any further comment except to ask,

“What part of the park?” Bucky surveyed his surroundings and reported,

“Northwest corner.” There was a faint clack of a keyboard in the background, and then she told him,

“Alright. We’re sending a guy over with a ladder. Just wait where you are so it doesn’t run off.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a nice day.”

While he waited, he alternately glared up through the branches and pitied the poor trainee that was probably stuck running all the way over and filing paperwork to drag kleptomaniac cats out of trees. As the minutes ticked by, he grew increasingly anxious about the impending encounter. This was certainly not his most shining moment. The thought of a total stranger having to come bail him out was mortifying. By the time the truck pulled up, Bucky was sitting on the ground, face buried in his hands to ward off the oppressive shame.

One small mercy was that at least they hadn’t sent a whole firetruck, lights and all. Unfortunately, since the universe did, in fact _hate_ him and seemed to derive great pleasure from Bucky’s pain, the guy walking across the grass towards him, aluminum ladder under his arm, was fucking _gorgeous_. He was tall, even taller than Bucky, with broad shoulders, a slim waist, and muscles that threatened to tear the sleeves of his way-too-small t-shirt. 

“Hey,” the guy said, propping the ladder against the tree trunk and extending his hand to help Bucky up. “I’m here to see a man about a cat?” Bucky took the offered hand, surprised at how long and thin his fingers were - more like they were made for playing piano or holding a pencil than fighting fires.

“That’d be me,” Bucky forced out, working against the sudden dryness in his mouth at their close proximity. “James Barnes,” he introduced himself, tacking on, “but my friends call me Bucky.”

“Steve Rogers,” the guy told him, warm smile spreading across his lips. Bucky’s eyes flicked down to the nametag on his chest and read “CPTN. ROGERS.” He shook Bucky’s hand and moved around him to look up into the tree. “Well, that’s certainly a cat,” he said, sounding a bit surprised to find that Bucky had been telling the truth.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Steve started unfolding the ladder, trying to get it settled high enough without spooking the cat, which watched them with an air of amusement, leather wallet still clamped in its tiny teeth. Bucky shifted uncomfortably on his feet while he watched, hands twitching at his side like they should be doing something useful.

“So,” he began, hoping to fill the silence in with some small talk. “They always send a captain for this kind of thing?” Steve chuckled a little, low and rumbling in his chest. 

“Nah, I was just headed out, and this is on my way home, so Maria asked if I could stop by and handle it.”

“Oh…” Bucky shuffled his feet. “Sorry I’m keeping you.” Steve stepped one foot onto the ladder for a test and then turned back to look at Bucky.

“I’ve got no plans tonight,” he told him with a shrug, holding eye contact for just a beat longer than strictly necessary before getting back to the task at hand.

Steve got up into the tree and started gently reaching for the cat, calling “here, kitty, kitty...come here...time to give the nice man his wallet back…” It really was a wonder that the adorable beckoning, combined with the sight of Steve’s frankly superhumanly-perfect behind on display, hadn’t given Bucky a heart attack yet.

After about five solid minutes of this, Bucky called up, “I think you might just have to grab the thing.”

“It’s starting to trust me; I can sense it.”

“I really don’t think that’s what’s happening here, pal.”

“So now you’re the cat-whisperer, huh?” Steve turned away from the cat just long enough to toss a raised eyebrow and teasing smirk Bucky’s way.

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered.

“I feel so appreciated.” Steve droned, but the quirk of his lips betrayed that he wasn’t offended at all.

Another minute passed in silence where Bucky zoned out, looking at the way sunlight fell through the leaves and caught in Steve’s hair and the cat continued to calmly sit in its perch and observe them both. Finally, a good size breeze blew through and rustled the leaves enough to make the cat turn its attention away from its would-be captors and Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing the cat and the wallet. He scrambled down the ladder, entirely graceless and jumping the last three rungs to the ground where he dropped the cat like a hot potato. Steve took a quick step back while the cat glared up at him. When it seemed to decide it would rather run off to harass some other helpless jogger than maul the stranger that had dared to manhandle it, Steve breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Well, that was exciting.” His voice was a bit breathy, cheeks flushed as he turned back to Bucky, who was much closer than either of them remembered.

“Uh, yeah...Thanks.” Steve smiled and handed him the wallet.

“No problem. I’m glad you called.” His eyes went soft for a beat before he seemed to realize what had just come out of his mouth and he was rushing to add, “you know, because...that could’ve been really dangerous.” Bucky grinned knowingly, earlier humiliation waning in the face of Steve’s own awkwardness.

“Right. That thing could’ve been rabid,” he teased. Steve’s rosy cheeks darkened into a blush. Normally, Bucky would’ve drawn out the banter a bit longer to torment him, but just this once, he took mercy and just asked, him, “So in light of all that danger you just faced, and seeing as I finally have my wallet back, think I could buy you a cup of coffee?” 

“Definitely.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is much appreciated! If you have any thoughts you would like to share (any at all, seriously) just post a comment- I'd love to hear from you. Or, you can come join me on tumblr as fire-lord-mai!


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